


lemonade

by inspectorwired



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Normal Life, F/F, featuring a place i love to go to, they both came to a big city because of school
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 18:11:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7449196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inspectorwired/pseuds/inspectorwired
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fluff, imaginary butterflies settled in the upper abdomen and physics talks.</p><p>Happy Jaderose week!</p>
            </blockquote>





	lemonade

 

"They’re not really touching, you know", she says, lost in thought. You take a sip of your coffee, warm and bitter like you like it, feeling your lips leave a black print where they touched the paper cup. 

You say nothing but a short "Hm", thinking about nothing in particular, looking at the tiny people below the roof’s edge.

The small hairs on her arms are slightly raised up and her shoulders are tense; you can almost feel the heat radiate from her, searching for another source. She isn't used to this, to the cold and concrete and the blinking traffic lights, pedestrians strolling about all the time, seemingly disinterested in anything at all.

You aren’t, either, to be honest, but she is born from the far south, the jungles and beaches and sand and so much more space than this town has ever seen. You hope that at least here, she can breathe.

You found this place a few months before she arrived, somewhere during one of your wanderings as you couldn’t seem to settle after you got here, walking across city until you found an abandoned building with an unsupervised access to the roof.

"You can see the whole city from here!" she exclaimed when you first brought her, seemingly as mesmerized as you were the first time you came.

"Yeah, they can't... Even the things you actually touch with your hand, its just air between atoms, so. If they came into contact for real, it'd probably cause a huge explosion." She stops talking for a second and takes a glance down at her fingers, painted pink and green. "It’s kind of fun actually, that sort of thing."

"I was aware, to be honest.", you smile. You are not unfamiliar to nuclear physics lessons, but it is infinitely more interesting to hear something like this from her; you cant stay unfazed by her excitement when she talks. She moves her arms and raises her eyebrows, sometimes her voice cracks when she goes out of breath and you couldn't stop looking even if you tried.

You feel like some things are meant to be taken in smaller dosages, a coffee spoon a day at most; too concentrated and pure for you to be exposed to them for more than that. A short version of your scattered thoughts is, she is overwhelming, in a way.

Her lips make a little 'oh'. "Okay! I should’ve known- you’re a genius after all, hahah."

"Oh, stop it with the modest talk; we are both aware that you are the genius here."

She hides her face behind her hands, laughing through her nose, then raises her head to glance at your face. Her other hand rests near the pink lemonade shes bought but barely tasted, fingers are still covered with the colorful pieces of rubber reminders, and you cant help but notice a violet one on her pinkie finger.

It is quiet and she keeps looking at you. It’s as if you are both bracing yourselves for a storm.

You reach out to touch her, but hesitate; you end up holding up a paper cup once more, the black paint residue pressed to your lips where you left it, sticking to the rest.

You are not disappointed, you tell yourself.

"I guess I’d just like to see it happen, you know?", she says after some time.

"What so?"

"To... Like. Actually touch someone, atoms and all. To feel them with every part of my being. Something like that? Hahah." She pauses, playing with the tiny braids scattered through her hair.

As poor as your circulation is, you are still thankful that blushing is near impossible for you, saving you quite a bit of embarrassment that would happen it this wasn’t the case.

"What with the inevitable disaster that would surely take place?", you ask, much to your own distaste. All of the congratulations to you, Rose; always a romantic.

"Yeah. Well! I wouldn’t mind."

"Is that so?", you ask, eyebrow raised, smile still here, as if it is a side effect of her presence.

"It is!", she says, seemingly more sure in what she is saying. "’Cause, it’d be kinda cool, I think. Becoming so close to someone that we cause an explosion."

You can feel her breath on your cheek and chills on the back of your arms, looking at her bright green eyes instead of the tiny cars and people and houses somewhere below, moving about and living their lives.

You can hear the sounds of traffic down there, but it seems almost nonexistant at this moment, in which she is staring at you, almost like she wants something to say.

You close your eyes and exhale.

Your body is a bundle of nerves and missed "should-have"s and you are trying to do something for once, but it is so much easier watching and waiting for nothing to happen, for the universe to give you some sort of validation for doing nothing at all - because, after all, nothing especially bad happened, did it?

Dressing in black and leaving cryptic messages stuck to the fridge instead of saying something. Breaking things when no one is looking, just to pick them up like parts of yourself and stick them together so that no one even notices the change, Meeting the girl you would be dreaming about for the years to come and never offering her any parts of yourself, of your life other than a seemingly perfect lie;

In all your life, you have never been brave. And, just perhaps, you are sick of it staying that way.

She covers your hand with her own. It’s warm, against the concrete.

“Yes. I think I would like that too", you whisper, and any residues of wishing to keep the status quo, that you previously had, seem to disappear the moment she leans in slightly, her eyelids flicking downwards.

She tastes like lemonade, you think, before your eyes start closing as well.


End file.
